Velvet Stars.

I sat, crossed legged, on my four poster bed and stared in awe out of the huge glass window that covered nearly a whole wall of my huge room.
It looked out onto a small lake surrounded by trees nestled in winding bushes, shrubs and exotics, rainbow bursting flowers.
I looked back at my cream room with golden decorations and china figures and sighed, leaning back on my bed.
I hate it. I hate my life. Why should I hate my life when I am a rich kid with an amazingly massive house and a beautiful garden? A London celebrity for a Dad and (I used to have), the most beautiful Mum in the world who is now also now my guardian angel.
I ventured down to the huge down stairs and into the duck egg blue kitchen where I absent mindedly grabbed a bag of crisps and sat down on one of our huge leather sofas in the living room. Bored out of my head. That's when I noticed it. The little emerald green plant perched on the table. It was in a small clay pot and vibes of life shimmered like silk around it.
I put my book down cautiously glad my farther was out, and looked over at it. My soul twisted.
No.'
Don't do it.
All the same I stood up and pulled out a chair to the polished table and sat directly in front of it as snakes swarmed in my stomach. I leaned the chair outwards to I could look directly at it and placed my hands on my knee. I took a sharp intake of breath.
Die. I thought before I could stop my self. And the leaves withered and blackened, they would crumble like burnt paper if I touched them.
Live. I thought just as quickly, and the black space that had been haunting the air was suddenly filled with a refreshing burst of life as the leaves raised and brightened.
I sighed and lent back in my chair, breathing heavily. And what good did that just do you Rosalind? I thought in distress to myself as my eyes flickered back to the plant.
I didn't think much of my gift. Because if I did farther would probably lock me up for the family pride. I snorted out loud to myself. What family?
The phone rang making me jump a little in my seat and I shoved aside the plant with mild anger so hard it almost smashed off the side of the table, before running over to the phone and taking a deep breath.
“Hello?”
“Rosalind. Its me. Switch one the telly and watch film four. This film is based on true encounters people have had with vampires – even thought no one believes it obviously, I want you to watch and annualise it closely.” I rolled my eyes. I hate my fathers obsession.
“When are you going to be home?”
“I have no idea but does it really matter? I want a good dinner ready to heat up the minute I get home, do you under stand.” the last bit wasn't a question, I had to say yes. I nodded then dumbly remembered he couldn't see me.
“Yes.”
“Pardon?”
“Yes daddy.”
“Good.” he hung up. Rude.
I walked over to the sofa and switched the TV only to stare at seething red eyes, curved canines and pale skin but unrealistic beauty, intelligence and agility.
I pretty much turned it off the minute it was on. Did I believe in all of this stuff. Yes. For such events have changed my life and ended my mothers. Did I care about this stuff? No. But it was the only future I had, not to turn into one of course... but something else.
Ghosts I completely believed in. Though my mother still hasn't visited me. I sighed and looked down at my perfectly manicured finger nails.
If I was me I would wear a trilby, a nice purple top with a V neck and some blue or grey designer skinny jeans and converse.
Because I can't possibly have a choice on how to be me I have to wear little blazers and cutesy skirts with stockings and little pumps and little strap tops.
I sighed and ruffled my hair.
The phone blared again and, with no enthusiasm, I picked it up.
Before I could even say hello he said,
“your not watching it are you?”
“What.” I sighed, chewing the end of the pencil as I looked down upon The Times.
“I know you don't like things like this but it doesn't matter that you do and don't like. What matters is that I have said to watch it. I want you to get a clear understanding of the world.”
“I am watching it.” I lied. There was a slight pause then he harrumph
“Then I look forward to hearing your opinions.” and with that he hung up again. God he drives me crazy.
I nearly went back to turn it on but thought I could just look up a summery later. So instead I decided to go out and buy some top range ready meals from Waitrose so I could pretend I had made it.
I set off with a tenner in my pocket (farther would never notice it gone), and my hair swept into a messy bunch, held back with a thick purple alice band.
I was wearing big diamond earrings for everyone to see. The only good thing in my life was money and it was nice to show it off. Not to mention my designer silver dress.
God I sounded up my self, maybe I was. But I tried my best to be kind.
I bought the food, many people said good afternoon to me because most people knew who I was.
I was his daughter.
Back home I fed the swans and made my way over to the little field in my riding gear.
“Crystal!” I called over to the white horse who was grazing lazily at the grass.
I never liked riding much, but Farther says I must do it to keep fit and to have a strong feminine side. My farther is also a complete hypocrite. He wears long black coats with Dr Martin shoes and sometimes smokes cigars when he's trying to seem older than he is. To me this is completely untraditional. And he wants me to be a good person all the time and the perfect daughter when he is hardly a good person and no where near the perfect farther. Mother was perfect though. I can remember.
But riding was a little relaxing so I put the gear on and rode round the little lake in complete peace and boredom.
I trailed back into the house and waited for the bleak arrival of my Father and wondered if he had killed today...